Give Me A Sign
by Amatyultare
Summary: Sometimes you cannot tell the truth between the lies,the right between the wrong. And all that you need is someone who will give you a sign that right doesn't mean ideal.
1. Chapter 1

_**Give Me A Sign**_

_And I can feel you falling away_

_No longer the lost_

_No longer the same_

_And I can see you starting to break_

_I'll keep you alive_

_If you show me the way_

_Forever – and ever_

_The scars will remain_

_I'm falling apart_

_Leave me here forever in the dark ("Breaking Benjamin", "Give Me A Sign")_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The arguments had already appeased but she was still feverishly walking up and down and could not take her ease as if expecting something wrong and fateful to happen… as it had happened that day.

Aeris Surana was quivering. Presentiment didn't desert her and now being in seclusion and safety of her room she couldn't acknowledge to herself if her decision was right.

The enraged Alistair was still facing her screaming something about Duncan, Grey Wardens and justice. Justice…

Aeris has found out the hard way that roads of justice and mercy diverge more frequently rather than she wants them to.

Being a good person doesn't save you from being in the wrong. She grasped this simple verity as a child: her mentor liked repeating the phrase. But this knowledge didn't free her of her worry, and the deeper she merged into a new world, the oftener she froze in indecision between the horns of a new dilemma.

Aeris sat down on the bed and covered her face with her hands. Alistair said himself that they had no time for distraction and feuds, that for victory all of them should have bound together – it was an aim of their order, wasn't it?

She couldn't understand why everybody was up in arms over her. Why the anxiety about her in her friends' eyes suddenly changed into disbelief and shock?! Aeris saw how Alistair's face turned to white, how Oghren displeasedly muttered something to himself, how the hearty Leliana, who was thundering out her support of her leader during the duel, stopped with open mouth. Wynne was looking at her as if she were an apostate – the healer's glance was unbelieving and… and embarrassed? Morrigan was scowling and seemed to be away; a curious look came over her face. There was nothing to see from Zevran's, Shale's and Sten's faces as if they had worn the same mask of detachment and deadness. And all this only because she wasn't able to revenge… to kill… to execute…

Aeris threw back her long hair, sighed deeply and looked around the room. This apartment was intended for a great lady, not for her. Airy and light, it was absolutely different from the roomlet in the Tower which she had been sharing with the other apprentices. The memories about her former life, so strange for most people and so normal for mages, overcame her driving the other thoughts in the background. She wished to return there, to that darksome place, where sometimes only drafts wandered around long somber corridors.

Somebody's steps were heard in the offing. Going by their heaviness, they must have been Sten's or Oghren's. Probably, some of them wanted to talk to her about her strange decision. Oh yes, nobody expected such a turn-up.

The door burst open, and someone she didn't expect barged into the room. Alistair with eyes full of anger swashed it.

Aeris stood up. She remained calm but in reality she was frightened and bushed left alone with her desperate friend.

"How… How could you…" he gasped. "I can't believe…"

"Alistair, please, calm down," Aeris asked. She was surprised how pleadingly and weakly her voice had sounded.

"Calm down?! Calm down?! I'll calm down only after his death!"

"What are you saying? I don't recognize you. You were different…"

"As you were!" he shouted. "Or maybe, he did corrupt you as well?"

"I was corrupted by nobody," replied Aeris coldly. She recovered her strength and held her head proudly drawing herself up to her full height. "Alistair, I implore you, for our friendship, get real!"

"That's it! After all, I'm a king now by your grace!"

"Yes, you're king," she said confidently. "And you ought to think of welfare of your country."

"Ah, yes, I get it. You mean that justice is not very important for Ferelden?"

"Ferelden doesn't need _vengeance_," knapped the mage, "but needs a good ruler and a skilled general."

"Ahhhh, what a stupid templar I am! You have never cared for Duncan, for our order and for everybody who was murdered then because of the treachery of this… of this…" Alistair was loss for words.

_"We are in the war_!" she didn't even presume to argue, although his words cut her deeply. "We have an army where, just give a handle, haemorrhage will start! You and I know nothing about how to control troops! Who will lead them?"

"It could be anybody! Why don't you see? It's a betrayal! You are betraying the Grey Wardens! You want this murderer to become one of us! Honour's instead of punishment?!"

Aeris scrutinized the face of her friend who had been saving her life and defended her so many times. What happened? Why'd he got such bloodlust? She had always supported him, tried to cheer him when he had needed it. And now she just couldn't understand why kind-hearted, flush, sweet Alistair had changed.

"I'm sure, Duncan would agree with me on the matter," Aeris whispered saying to herself.

"You don't know anything of Duncan!" Alistair gave a yell. Feared Aeris cowered away. "You have never wanted to be one of us, I know! I know everything! You went away with him to save your skin!"

"Stop it!" she screamed pressing her hands to her ears. "Please, go away!"

"You were helping that blood mage! You betrayed the Circle!" Alistair kept on raging, his face grew red. He took step forward to the white as chalk elf. They, who had always shared not only all the ills of life but also their beliefs, suddenly drifted apart – as light and darkness, fire and ice. And if Alistair's heart was flaming with the light of justice and got only hotter feeling indignation, Aeris's soul was immersing deeply into the darkness of frozen desperation.

"He was my friend. The only friend I had. I'd known since childhood," the louder his words became the lower did her own.

Alistair stared at her heaving. He spoke again but without anger in his words. Now he was speaking antsy and quickly as if he was trying to persuade her, to bring her to her senses:

"Loghain bowled both of us to death. He traded elves, tried to kill Arl Eamon and us. Uldred broke the Circle, thanks to Loghain again. And our brothers and sisters and Cailan are dead because this damnable hero left them all to die! And now you are defending him?!"

"Yes, I am" was her simple reply.

Alistair didn't expect that. This brief answer made him so angry as if she had given a speech in vindication of Loghain Mac Tir, whom she and Riordan were going to put through the Joining.

"W-what?!" he was confused at first. "And that after all we've been through?"

Aeris remained silent, but he didn't need her words: he saw the answer in her eyes.

"I get it," he whispered, "get it. Maker, I've been mistaken… I thought you are different from…"

"Different from what?" Aeris swallowed nervously and looked at him expectantly.

"You aren't a true Grey Warden. You are… you are just a… just a mage…"

It was just too much for her. The years of the practice aimed at getting all the feelings and thoughts under absolute control suddenly became useless and unmeaning.

– "Yes, I'm a mage!" screamed Aeris. She was trembling, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "What do you want from me? I was already made to forget everything once, you see, _everything_, and I'm not going to abandon all the things I've always been!"

"Duncan abandoned his family!"

"But it doesn't mean he forgot them!"

"How…" Alistair stopped and changed the topic. "I see that I never knew you. But I know you now. You have a strange crush on murderers: this Jowan of yours, Morrigan, Zevran, now Loghain…"

"Stop it! You have no right…"

"I'M A KING! I have right…"  
"YOU ARE NOT A TEMPLAR TO TEACH ME!" it seemed to her she had never screamed so loudly before, but…

"Ooh!"

Aeris removed her hand off her lips. The fingertips became vermeil with blood. Alistair's hand fell to his side. He was gasping looking with horror at the blood on his sister-in-arms' face.

"What's going on?! Why are you shouting?!"

Riordan, Arl Eamon, Loghain and Zevran rushed into the room. Alistair glanced at them and then gave Aeris a scared look, his eyes on stalk. He turned sharp round and, sweeping all others aside, ran out of the room.

"Aeris!" Zevran, who caught sight of blood and tears of the mage's face, dashed for her.

"It's all right," she wheezed out when the assassin took her face carefully in his hands.

"Did he… did he hit you?" Arl Eamon looked shocked.

Zevran snarled deafly. Aeris had never seen him so angry.

"Please, calm down," she asked him softly but the elf didn't listen. He reached forth his blades.

"He's dead meat," Zevran hissed balefully and before somebody could stop him and rushed away in search of Alistair.

"Zevran!" the cry was up in the air. The assassin got clear away.

"We should stop him," remarked Riordan, "before bloodshed starts."

"It seems it has already started," Loghain gave an inaudible mutter.

The mage didn't say anything and dashed out of the room. The men followed her.

---

Alistair was running down the long empty corridors of the mansion. He couldn't believe that he had stricken a woman; the recall of that was awful. He hated himself; he hated her and all this damnable Blight. And he hated Loghain and blamed him for all that had happened to him, Aeris, Duncan, Cailan… The list could be endless. And now… He was no better than this ""living legend"" really.

He tried to take comfort in him wanting to knock sense into her, to make her change her foolish and bad decision. There was no justice, there was no honour, and – how had she said? – no vengeance… But in his mind he remounted to the moment when he laid hands on a crying girl, again and again… _There_ was no honour. Nothing could justify it, nothing. What had become of him?

"You, bastard!"

No doubts, it was him who had been spoken to, thanks to his dear father he'd never known. Alistair turned around. Zevran was approaching him. There was no his usual cattish smile on his tanned face; his eyes glittering with some mad, endless malice and something Alistair couldn't recognize; his blades in his arms. Alistair thought that elf didn't look like the civil, balanced Zevran.

"Going for the doctor, yes?" the elf hissed floutingly.

"I've never eluded from someone like you," replied the Grey Warden dryly.

Zevran gave a laugh.

"Of course you've not. You specialize in the other things, don't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

Zevran came slowly keeping his eyes fixed on the former templar.

"Did you think I'd put up with it? Just let you go?" he whispered, his eyes lit up with devilish flames.

"Drop dead! I'm sick of the whole business without you," Alistair was going to turn but changed his mind: it wasn't wise to turn your back on a professional killer. The Grey Warden felt discomfort: he hadn't any weapon with him, and Zevran wasn't friendly.

"Maybe, you're king," the assassin grinned, "but it doesn't mean that I'll just be standing and looking how you…" he took a deep breath. "Get ready, my king. Don't worry, I promise, your funeral ceremony will be gorgeous."

"Oh, yes, to kill an unarmed one is such honour. Who knows, may be the Crows will take you back," – sneered Alistair. He wasn't going to plead for mercy. His life had been already broken because of Aeris, Maric and Loghain.

To his surprise, Zevran flung his swords down.

"I can do it with bare hands," the elf's voice was full of hatred and venom. "It won't cause me any sweat. You are the one here who can try a fall with someone weaker than you. _Your Majesty_ deigns only to hit a woman."

"It sounds odd coming from a murderer," fended Alistair.

At the moment Zevran jumped at him like lightening and hit him before Alistair could dodge – blood poured from the nose. The templar decided not to wait for another blow of the elf, which had lost his nerve, and hit him straight on the jaw. They grappled like two enraged dogs, and both of them didn't even care that they had been defending each other's backs.

"Stop it! Stop it now!"

Somebody's hands got hold of Alistair and dragged him away from the Crow.

"Hold it, Alistair!"

Riordan and Eamon were holding him. Loghain got his claws into Zevran, who was still spoiling for a fight. Aeris rushed for her assassin to pacify him by her mild speech. Alistair caught her look at him and suddenly saw her on the other side: bleary, frightened, broken, still trying to put something right. But he knew that it was too late now: he wasn't going to get his brother's crown, furthermore, he wasn't able to stay here with her any more: the memory of what he had done and what she had would chase him whenever he'd hear her soft voice, see her strange yellow eyes. She had made her choice and wouldn't change that. There was nothing left.

"Release me," Alistair stopped resisting, and Riordan with Eamon loosened their grip momentarily. The Grey Warden detached himself and squared his shoulders. Zevran'd calmed down as well; under the influence of his beloved's reasoning he fell all of a heap in Loghain's arms, but the former teyrn didn't release him, for fear of the cunning elf trying to put him off his guard.

"Alistair, what's going on?" Arl Eamon took the Warden by the hand.

Alistair kept silent. He was looking daggers at Loghain, his ruffle with Zevran was completely forgotten when he'd seen this betrayer.

Riordan came forward, quiet and tired. In the dusk his pale complexion seemed to be even sicklier than ever.

"You are Grey Wardens," he looked at Alistair, Aeris and Loghain. "If we want to stop the Blight, we have to be at one – in our words, actions and thoughts. Your behavior…"

"So, all you care about are good manners, right Riordan?" Alistair gave a strange, unnatural laugh. "The death of Duncan and the others – we have to be at one on this issue as well?"

"Alistair," whispered Aeris. Loghain released Zevran; there was an unreadable look on the general's poker face. Zevran gave Alistair another deadly glance, picked up his swords from the floor and sheathed them.

"Our order…" began to speak Riordan but Alistair interrupted the Senior Warden.

"You mean_ your _order," he said caustically. "I don't want to get roped into your business any more. To hell with your Archdemon and your crown. I'm leaving."

"Alistair, wait!" exclaimed Eamon.

Some part of Alistair wanted to agree with him, stay here and keep fighting on their side as it had been before: playing tricks on Aeris and Leliana, talking to Wynne whole days and nights, listening to the whole nonsense of Oghren… Even Morrigan didn't seem to him such a beastly witch… Well, maybe not exactly. But the sight of silent Loghain Mac Tir standing at Aeris's side…

Be as it may.

"I… I just can't," he told all of them. Then he turned to Aeris and held up his hands: "It's… it's the end."

And he walked away, broken and betrayed. No one stopped him.

He didn't hear his sworn foe saying quietly:

"A really royal departure."

---

"How are you, dear?"

Aeris looked up. Wynne smiled cheerfully.

"You ought to be strong," the old mage sat down on a large comfortable sofa beside the Warden. "He will be back, you'll see."

Aeris smiled painfully. Suddenly she held Wynne tight as if she were a little child that had woken up from the nightmare.

"When will all of this be over, Wynne?" Aeris whispered deafly hiding her head in the healer's side. Wynne only smiled downy and patted her head.

"You need a rest, child," spoke the mage passing her hand over the Warden's smooth hair. "Time heals. He'll understand it either, and very soon. I'm sure, then we all will be laughing looking back on this day."

Aeris felt that doubt was hiding under Wynne's anodynes, but she was grateful even for that. The elf lay down on the sofa, pillowed her head on the healer's knees and smiled at her. Wynne chuckled at her childish behavior, and started to sing something in a soft voice. Aeris closed her eyes with delight.

That was how they spent this time, thinking back on the forgotten simple joys, so imperceptible for normal people and so desirable for mages. Aeris was looking for the care and safety of a mother, Wynne – for the love and warm of a child. The chucks in the fireplace were clacking, the life around faded; and only a quiet song didn't let the time stop…

When Loghain and Riordan came into the small living room, they saw a strange scene: Wynne was lulling the Warden, which laid flat on the sofa and napping peaceful on the older enchanter's lap.

"Are we in the way?" asked Riordan under his breath. The healer nodded briefly and threw the Senior Warden an inquiring glance.

"All is prepared for the ritual," he explained glinting at the sleeper. "I just wanted to warn her."

Wynne nodded towards Aeris and glanced imploringly at the men.

The Grey Warden gave a hardly perceptible nod and beckoned Loghain to follow. The other got under way with a bad grace, looked out over the mages and was going to leave, but…

"Wait."

A sodden voice made Loghain stop. He turned around and saw how his "saviour", rubbing her eyes, sat.

"The preparations are over," Riordan informed her. "Sorry for interrupting".

"Never mind," she answered stretching herself. Wynne signed loudly.

"I expected to be through with it today," claimed the Senior Warden.

Loghain gave him a baleful stare and frowned. This Orlesian is too independent.

Riordan didn't notice it and kept on talking with Surana:

"Your presence is not required. I can do it myself."

Wynne put her hand on the elf's shoulder as if the old mage wanted the Warden to agree with Riordan's offer. Loghain again and again caught her glances at him – glances reminding of stares of an accuser who was looking at a supposed criminal.

"No," Aeris stood up. Loghain examined carefully her exhausted face, her tear-stained eyes that hadn't dried yet. She is too weak – she can't lead armies, he told himself. The girl is not like Cauthrien, not a fighter, too fragile and soft. But she defeated him… "I must be near," she said.

It's difficult to say what has surprised him more: her words or the firmness of her words.

"I'm flattered that you waste your precious time on me… Warden" said Loghain coldly. It had sounded like an insult, he thought. He saw that she flinched from this "title", how a sleepy expression on her exsanguine face (where was no impact mark, thanks to Wynne) changed into anxiety and unrest.

"Well… let's go?" asked Aeris.

"He'll return," suddenly said Riordan. "He's a Grey Warden."

A wan smile touched her thin lips. She didn't say anything and walked out of the room. Wynne closed her eyes.

"He will not and she knows that," the healer said softly.

Riordan and Loghain looked at her, but the mage wasn't eager to continue her explanations. There was nothing to do, and the Senior Warden with the former teyrn followed their new leader to meet the Joining.

* * *

_I know I was very cruel to Alistair; he doesn't deserve it. But it was necessary and I promise I'm not going to leave him._

_And I also want to apologize for every mistake you may find: it's my first writing in English, so please, forgive me! Have a nice day_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It was foolish. It was very, very foolish and even dangerous.

Aeris knew that walking alone at night wasn't a very clever decision, especially for an elvish woman. And _especially _if it was only in order to return to that awful place. But Aeris also knew that there would be no rest for her if she didn't do that.

She had left Arl Eamon's estate far into the night and hadn't warned anybody about her intention. Now she was walking down the street making her way to the District Market. There were no stars in the sky; the heavens were cold as marble. The wind was driving the massive black clouds, which had blotted out the moon's disk. They remained Aeris of the darkspawns' army trying to kill any hope… The shadows melded with darkness, and every crinkle, every glance of a lonely passer-by, which ones Aeris occasionally met in her way, made her body shudder and her heart beat oftener. It seemed as if nature itself, so lifeless at this season, objected Aeris's presence on the Denerim streets. The Warden heard as if someone's strange voice in the icy wind ordered her to turn bridle, but she continued her way bundling up with a thin dark cloak, for what she was given another slap across her face by the wild, furious wind.

A new blow of the nocturnal air tore the hood from Aeris's head and her long brown hair and blew over her shoulders. The elf climbed it into, but that occurred again. A storm was threatening – a rarity in these lands at this time of the year. Aeris smiled painfully. One storm had already burst on her life leaving only pathetic splinters of bitter memories.

The Grey Warden was lucky that her absence passed unnoticed. Zevran would never let her go alone, and it was vain to keep him in the dark: how can one slip a professional assassin and spy? Especially when this assassin does care for you.

Aeris knew that her inamorato was sleeping tight – Wynne had given him a soporific to calm down. Zevran was antsy more than he showed. The escape from fort Drakon, clash with the Crows, the Landsmeet, Alistair… That was too much even for someone who had been learning for whole his life to maintain his composure. Besides, Zevran had become much more emotional than before. The thought of her beloved morally warmed the mage and her gait became more confident.

Her friends declared that they were going to prepare for rest – tomorrow would be a hard day so it was necessary to gather strength. Aeris felt relief watching how dozy Leliana retired to her own room.

But Morrigan… Aeris thought the witch's behaviour was strange. No doubts, she was worrying because of Flemeth but… Something wasn't as same as before. Aeris stopped in the middle of the road and peered up and down. Maybe Morrigan was tracking her taken the shape of a bird?

Squish, she thought. As if Morrigan had nothing else to do.

Aeris passed a small park where men's voices were heard. Several humans were sitting at the benches and tackling a subject. Everybody had a bottle in his hands. Aeris slid past them. Here she regretted that she hadn't taken Apollo with her. On the other hand, a sight of a huge mabari would only attract absolutely needless interest.

When the noisy company was left behind Aeris sighed with relief. It's not very nice to wander alone even if you are a powerful Arcane Warrior.

What will she find? All the same a welcome won't be warm and no guarantee that Alistair was there at all.

Why did she walk away in the first place? Because she didn't. She escaped.

Aeris was hard to believe that she had left Arl Eamon's estate not only because of Alistair.

The sight of Loghain drinking darkspawn's blood from the beaker evoked her memory of her own Joining, of Daveth's and Jory's deaths and of what could have happened to her. She still didn't understand why she had survived and two strong healthy men had not – Daveth hadn't withstood the presence of the taint in his blood, and Jory had been killed by Duncan…

That time she had another role to act but it was as dramatic as before. Her heart withered when Loghain took this blessed goblet – yes, he was her enemy and even the Joining would scarcely change it, however, she couldn't but feel sorry for him. Moreover, during the ritual the Warden found out that she feared for him.

Aeris couldn't hate him. In spite of everything she didn't believe that this steel-clad man really wanted her to be dead. It doesn't mean that he wouldn't kill her, of course. But every time when she met his eye she realized that Loghain had been doing what had been right in his own sight.

The Grey Warden couldn't figure out her feelings for him. The more she thought about his actions the less she wanted to blame him. And these thoughts made her feel guilt for Alistair.

– –

_Sometime she wanted to forget the moment she had been initiated into the Grey Wardens, scrub these words that poisoned her mind as the taint did with her blood and which Alistair was saying solemnly when she with trembling hands put the goblet full of blood to her lips. She thought she had managed it. But when Riordan started saying these sacral phrases she suddenly understood that she was speaking them with him and their voices merged in their sounding. _

_"Join us," and Loghain went as white as death. He fell on the floor in his armour, and Riordan with Aeris dashed for him. They bent over the former teyrn and Aeris breathed freely – Loghain just fainted._

_Someone knocked at the door and Anora entered the room. She seemed to be quiet, only her eyes telegraphed her emotion. But when she saw her father laying unconscious, all her semblance disappeared, as if somebody had tore the mask of royal greatness and unconcern from her beautiful face. She gave a muffled cry and flapped down on her knees before Loghain. There was no more a queen in the room, there was a fragile woman fearing for her father's life. A girl with skinned knees, Aeris noticed with amusement._

_"What… What have you done with him?" Anora demanded removing hair from Loghain's face, her eyes held desperation and horror. _

_"Everybody undergoes this," Riordan answered in a flavourless voice._

_Loghain's face became awry with pain. Aeris watched him, imagining what dreams caused such tortures. Watching that for her was not better than testing that. She touched his hand and clasped it._

_Anora was shivering. She flanked at Aeris imploringly, even helplessly as if it was the Landsmeet again, and the mage could end her father's suffering. _

_"You have a healer with you. Perhaps…"_

_"No," the mage shook her head. Oh Maker, it was terrible. How could Riordan be so sober-blooded?_

_"But… but there must be…"_

_"It is not easy for me to see him in this state either," said Aeris slowly. "But there is nothing can be done. If I only could…"_

_"If you really __**could**__ something, this wouldn't have happened," Anora whispered crossly. _

_Aeris removed her hand from Loghain's. He groaned in his dreadful dream._

_"Do you need anything else?" she asked Riordan trying not to look at Loghain. _

_The senior Warden shook his head._

_"I don't. Are you leaving?"_

_"I have nothing to do here."_

_"I thought you'd want to greet your new brother."_

_"Some other time," she stood up and, for the last time looked at suspirious Loghain and his daughter who had enfolded her dear father was whispering something to him, nodded Riordan and went out of the room. With the door slammed, she leaned against it heaving._

– –

Aeris knocked carefully and stepped back. Night visits, no doubts, weren't a cachet of courtesy but in this house the Warden wouldn't be welcome anytime.

"Who's there?" a woman's sleepy voice was heard.

The door opened and a woman wearing a night shift with a lamp in her arms appeared on the doorstep.

"You?!" she exclaimed near dropping her lamp.

"I'm sorry for disturbance, Goldanna," replied the Warden quietly.

"What in the world you're doing here?! Away with you!" she hissed trying to speak as low as possible.

"I must speak to you."

"Get out of here! When all of you will leave me alone?! Today was eno…" Goldanna fell silent and was going to slam the door in the face of Aeris but a scud stopped her. The mage took her hand away.

"I must speak to you," she repeated.

"What do you want?" asked Goldanna alertly, looking leerily at her night guest.

"What today? What were you talking about?"

"Tis none of your business. Why did you come? To disturb me and my children?" the woman rapped out.

Aeris got abashed. She looked really foolish here standing at the door of the unfamiliar poor woman's house in the dead of the night.

"And really, why did I come?" the elf whispered and turned away intending to leave.

"Are you looking for him or what?"

"What?!" Aeris stayed put; her heart palpitated madly hammering in her throat. "Is he here?"

"An heir of the royal blood? Here, in the house of a beggar-woman?" Goldanna smiled darkly, pleased with the effect of her words. She caught the sight of Aeris opening her mouth for a new question and spoke again: "You know, I have a hard day tomorrow, after all I'm working my guts out to provide my family. I have neither time nor inclination to talk to you…"

"Please, tell me where he is. I appeal…"

"Shh," Goldanna said; her finger over her lips. She looked into the house and then turned to the Warden: "Go away! Now!"

"But…"

"Mum, where are you?" a little blonde girl appeared on the doorstep. She gaped at the Warden.

"Well there…" said Goldanna angrily glaring at Aeris. "Dear, go to bed. It's late and it's cold here."

"Mum, who's it?"

Aeris got confused. She didn't like Goldanna thinking that she was interested only in money but now looking at the child wearing an old, patched, but clear slumber suit Aeris just couldn't judge her.

"No odds. She's leaving. Go to bed."

"She's looking for Uncle Alistair?"

The mage perked up. So, he had been here before. Wisdom from the mouth of a baby. Goldanna began to speak something but Aeris didn't listen. She squatted down alongside with the girl and said softly:

"Yes, I'm looking for Uncle Alistair. Did he come here?"

"He did. He talked to Mum and gave me a chocolate."

"Enough!" Goldanna dashed for her daughter. "Don't talk to her!"

"Why" the girl looked disappointed. "She's looking for Uncle."

"What have I been telling? Do never speak to strangers!"

"I'm not a stranger," Aeris stood up, face to face to Goldanna. "Please, help me," she hesitated for a moment but said: "And I shall help you."

Goldanna frowned considering something. Her daughter laughed and smacked her on the cheek.

"Come," the woman said shortly and went indoors holding her child in her arms. Aeris followed her.

Nothing had changed there. The same empty walls, the same fixed windows with old washed-out curtains, the same atmosphere of need and distress, and the air was still tainted with the flavor of vinegar.

"Wait here," Goldanna told her. "I'll bed her down," she took the child away.

Aeris was left alone. She sat down on the chair and looked around the room. First she had been here with Alistair and the mage still remembered shock and bitterness in his eyes when he saw the true reality of his sister's life. Then Aeris made him promise that he wouldn't forget this imperfect family. And he kept his promise…

"Where are you, Alistair?" she wondered. What would be if she found him? What would she say? She regretted saying what she said about templars. She hadn't wanted to hurt him and she hoped that he hadn't wanted it either.

"Do you hear me?"

Aeris raised her eyes. Goldanna was glancing at her attentively.

"So," she said, "you want him back, do you? But he doesn't want it."

"What did he say? Is he all right?"

"He came here, all overwrought, talking nonsense about you and teyrn Mac Tir," Goldanna sat down opposite the Warden, her eyes exhausted. "As if I cared. Told me you had betrayed him. That he didn't want to be a king. That he's leaving forever and came only to say goodbye. He gave me some money and wanted to see the children. Then he left. That's all."

"Did he… did he say where he was going?"

"He didn't. He said he didn't wish to be bound with Grey Wardens and Ferelden any more."

"That's the end," Aeris thought. She'll never see him again, never laugh with him, never make merry with him… Suddenly all colors of the world faded. She wanted to cry so much but she couldn't.

"Do you wish to ask me about anything else?" inquired Goldanna. Aeris came to life.

"No," she whispered, "thank you."

Goldanna nodded. She looked very serious, not a shred of mockery.

Aeris sighed, stood up and thrust Goldanna a purse:

"Take it. There's enough to feed your children for a month. Then I'll send more."

Goldanna took the purse not looking at the Warden. Aeris turned away going to leave when Alistair's sister suddenly said:

"Do you think I like it? Mooching money from you? Don't you suppose that this life changed me? That I might be better? That I could spend my life smiling and laughing?"

"My and Alistair's life weren't easy," Aeris answered. "But I was mistaken about you. You have to care about your family and you can do it as you think fit. I have no right and no inclination to judge you."

Goldanna frowned as if she didn't trust her. Then she faltered out:

"Thanks for… for understanding."

Aeris smiled at her and turned away. When she was leaving she suddenly heard Goldanna's voice:

"But I didn't understand why he was so angry about you and the general. Are you lovers with Loghain or something else?"

– –

Aeris closed the door. The truth she had known about Alistair was painful. And she wasn't able to do something with it.

But there was no time for grief. She needed to go back to Eamon's estate and her absence must be unnoticed. The Warden took step forward when she suddenly saw somebody standing near the opposite house.

"What are you doing here?" the stranger asked.

Aeris lost the power of speech. Loghain slowly came out of the darkness.

"You?!"

"Do you see somebody else here?" he replied, eyeing her from head to foot.

"You have been tracking me?" Aeris blinked, absolutely confounded.

"Not exactly, but something of the kind", Loghain frowned. "So, you didn't answer. Why are you walking alone at night?"

"As I see, I wasn't alone," the mage braced her heart. What _he_ was doing here?

"Is the evading the issue a Grey Wardens' tradition?" said Loghain sarcastically. "If so, I have much to learn."

"I'm tired, Loghain. I'd rather not to ruffle, if you don't mind. The Landsmeet was pretty enough."

She went to the former teyrn eyeing him. Loghain looked very ill. His face was very pale, eyes lost their stark scintillation what she had seen during the Landsmeet. Maker's breath, he mustn't have left, he should rest!

"How do you feel? You were unconscious when I left," Aeris asked, her voice soft.

Loghain shuddered.

"I'm fine."

"You look exhausted."

"There's nothing to worry about…"

"No, there is!" Aeris exclaimed and pressed her hand to her mouth: it wasn't wise to make a noise on the night street. "Don't you understand that it isn't safe for you to walk alone in this state?" she said under her breath.

"Funny. I was going to ask the same," Loghain grinned. "What's the hell do you forget in these parts? Don't you realize that it's dangerous?"

"Enough," the Warden made a movement of protest. "We can discuss that when we get to Eamon's."

"Here we agree," Loghain soughed. "Let's go back before somebody find out our absence."

Aeris nodded and they both moved. The wind was getting up, and the mage expected rain to start at any moment. It was very cold outside and she regretted not to wrap up warmly. Suddenly Loghain stopped. He was gasping, his hands were shaking.

"Loghain?" Aeris looked into his face, feeling anxiety.

"I… just let's keep going," he answered, his eyes closed. No doubts, he was overcome.

"Are you sure?"

The warrior nodded and took her down. She squeezed his arm in reassurance; her fingers felt the coldness of River Dane Armor. But the man she was walking arm in arm with didn't notice it. Loghain seemed to be absorbed in thought.

They reached the park where Aeris saw some company. These men were still here, but now they were silent. Aeris thought that it would be better if the strangers didn't notice them.

"Loghain," she murmured, "maybe we should bypass these people? They are strange."

He glanced at the group.

"Strange? Whatever makes you think so?"

"I saw them before. They were talking loudly and now they keep still."

"At least I'm not the one paranoid here," a faint smile touched his lips. "But I'm not sure they will let us go."

And really, the men were approaching the Grey Wardens. Loghain gently took his arm off Aeris's.

"Good night," said one of them grinning. "Lovely weather, don't you think so?"

Aeris was going to answer but her companion didn't let her to speak

"What do you want?" asked Loghain coldly.

"The weather is lovely as is the girl," sang the guy, and all the company of six lads laughed.

"I beg your pardon?" Loghain's eyes narrowed.

Aeris blushed. Oh no, it will come to a sticky end. What a dreadful day.

"Loghain…'' she began, but one of the lads suddenly exclaimed:

"Loghain? Oh Maker… I thought you looked familiar but…"

"But you didn't pay attention to that," continued the new Grey Warden.

The company got really distracted.

"Teyrn… teyrn Mac Tir… we are sorry, we didn't recognize…"

"Enough," interrupted Loghain. "Maybe you let me and my companion pass?"

"We are lucky that they didn't heard of the Landsmeet," Aeris said when the group was behind. This night is really full of surprises.

Loghain remained silent. After a while he spoke:

"Do you see now how it was foolish of you to go away alone?"

"I'm not a babe in arms. And if we are talking about foolishness, you are not better than me. And how did you find me? I left you with Anora and Riordan. You couldn't follow me."

"Follow – not, but sense – yes."

"Ah… the taint…" Aeris smiled.

Oh yes, of course. The taint in the Grey Warden blood let sense not only the darkspawn but another Grey Warden as well. Why didn't she guess?

"Riordan left soon after my awakening. Anora was with me for a while. When she went up to bed, I found out that I couldn't sleep," Loghain carried on. "I heard two guards talking about you. They said that you left and didn't return yet. You know another part."

"But why did you decide to find me at all?"

"You are the Grey Wardens' commander now. If something happened to you, I would have to deal with all this Blight alone. And your friends would probably accuse me of killing you… This Wynne of yours is quiet eager to blame me just for being alive."

At last they reached Eamon's residence. Aeris was glad that this night promenade finally ended. But for the mage it wasn't enough.

"It was a hard day for all of us," Aeris turned to her new brother-in arms, "but think we can relieve the end of it."

"What are you talking about?" Loghain frowned.

Aeris smiled warmly at him.

"Well, we are cold and tired, so we have a full authority for a cup of tea, don't we?"

Loghain stared at her as if she ran mad.

"Tea?" he repeated.

"What? You don't like the idea?"

"That's not what I mean."

"So why we're standing here? Come on!" Aeris chuckled.

After all, even a bad day can have a good ending. Even if it means a bunfight with your former sworn enemy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

This woman defeated him. She must have been his executor. Maybe she still is – it was her decision to conscript him into Grey Wardens, to poison his blood with this taint that she, the Orlesian and this stupid boy have in their veins. And now she is making tea for him. In Eamon's kitchen. Maric would like it. He always enjoyed making a fool of him. And he would like her because his crush on elves was surprisingly constant.

Loghain didn't know what to make of her: the Warden was absolutely different from all the women he had ever known. Not a hunter like Anora – this mage is not the kind of person who believes that the end justifies the means. Anora would never let her enemies become her brothers-in arms. She always knows what she wants and always reaches it, counting the cost, by fair means or foul. He taught her so; she's not just a fighter, not a coddle queen that cares only about balls, dresses and court intrigues. Anora is a survival. The wild rose of Ferelden.

And the Warden is certainly not like Cauthrien who is a true soldier not only on the battlefield. Sometimes it even seems the lieutenant has in her veins no blood but glacial steel that venenates her foes better than any assassins' poison. Cauthrien devoted her life to Ferelden and she knows what to do to protect the land she loves. She believed in him, trusted him, but she was brave enough to admit his being in the wrong. And that was only for their country. Cauthrien is a defender and attacker all in one and she carries out orders as if they are her own wishes. The best sword of Ferelden.

Celia, his dead wife… She was his break in the clouds, the light that didn't blind but allayed the pain. He can't forget her peaceful smile, her downy voice. Even thinking of her still can ease his ache. But she left and the light faded. And there is nobody Anora can follow softly. Celia was the one that wasn't for Ferelden, not for Loghain Mac Tir, the hero and skilled leader; she was only for Loghain.

And Rowan… She was better than both of them, Loghain and Maric. She deserved life much more than them. If there had been a chance, they would have given their lives in order to save hers. Loghain knew that Maric had changed after her death, he never really recovered. So did Loghain but he never showed his grief. Rowan was gone, and the whole country, all the people, from farmers to Arls, mourned her death. Even now their sorrow can be felt in the air of the land she freed. Rowan wasn't just a symbol of nobility and freedom. She was… no, she still is the spirit of the country, because there is no one who could come near her. The purest soul of Ferelden.

"Are you all right?"

Loghain flinched. The Warden was standing in front of him with a steaming cup in her hands. Loghain looked in her eyes. He had never seen such a strange tone. Lighter than amber, this colour remained him of a sunbeam that had been trapped by a layer of ice.

"I hope Eamon won't be angry that I'm calling the tune in his kitchen," she said with a nervous smile and offered him the cup. "Take this. It will make you feel better."

Loghain took the cup but didn't drink. The Warden raised her eyebrow.

"You think I'm gonna poison you?"

"You have already done that, haven't you?" answered Loghain chilly.

"If you believe that my Joining was different from yours, you are mistaken. Ah, no, there was a difference. Two men died up in my face," the Warden frowned. "And then everybody died."

"There you are," Loghain thought. Ostagar.

The Warden meanwhile continued her speech and contrary to all his expectations she told another thing:

"I thought I had proved that I don't want your death. And I don't want to see you suffering, so please, oblige me and just taste!"

Loghain took a gulp. The tea was surprisingly mellow, not sweet, but mild. The former teyrn felt that the headache deadened and the fog of painful haziness cleared. She said the truth.

"What is it?" he asked, and the Warden's face softened.

"I used to make it for my mentor in the Tower. He had terrible migraines."

She moved aside in order to fill tea for herself. Then she sat down across from him. There was gloom and silence, and Loghain felt uncomfortable. The Warden didn't look at him and was plunged in thought, and he was able to view her easily. She had chiselled features, but now her face recalled a wax mask of fatigue and deadness, her skin ashy; dark shadows beneath her eyes. Loghain grinned. She wasn't the one here who had got circles.

"I feel so stupid. I don't know what to talk about," the Warden murmured to herself.

Loghain didn't say anything. He was just thinking of all that they both had done: he made her a fiend first, and then she threw him away from the pedestal of the hero, pedestal he had never really cared about. They swapped their places, but she conscripted him and made him equal to her.

Why did he follow her tonight? He told her the truth: she is a general now. He can dislike it, of course, but it's his duty to keep her alive. The Joining and their showdown only proved that she is not just a weak uncertain creature with magical power at her fingertips.

But there was another reason. Loghain followed her because he doesn't like to sit on his hands and he absolutely doesn't like to feel himself helpless and weak. He can still sense the ache of his "dream" but it doesn't mean that he is going to idle. He tracked her down because he needed to prove himself that the taint cannot stop him.

He is a Grey Warden. He'd never thought that this could happen to him. Loghain could swear that Genevieve and her band would have a good laugh. And what he is expected to do?

"What do you want from me, Warden?" he suddenly broke the silence.

The mage gave him a wistful gaze.

"You tell me: What do you want?" her voice soft and even friendly.

Loghain stared at her amusedly.

"What **I** want? What an odd question…"

The Warden just shrugged her shoulders and looked in his eyes waiting for an answer. Loghain sighed.

"I want ride back and sit in the war room and find no empty chairs at the table."

She nodded as if cheered him to continue.

"I want to lose nothing else. I want a line, clearly drawn, that I can defend.

I want an end to this war. All of this can rightly be called my fault."

It was the truth. Everything it's his fault… excepting Ostagar.

"Whether or not you can do better remains to be seen. But if you can make this end, Warden, I will follow you, I swear."

He saw how her face changed. The mask disappeared as if his oath released her from the grief.

"You do me proud, Loghain Mac Tir," said the Warden. "And I swear, I'll do my all to protect Ferelden."

Funny, several hours before they fought a duel, and now they swear fidelity to each other. Maric, you would certainly like it.

Suddenly the Warden shuddered.

"Morrigan?"

Loghain wheeled around. The witch he had seen at the Landsmeet beside the Warden stood in the doorway.

"Morrigan?" repeated the Warden.

The witch looked strange. She kept silent; her face is entirely devoid of expression.

"She knows," Morrigan whispered.

"What are you talking about?" the Warden seemed to be scared.

"She knows what we are doing."

Loghain stood up.

"Something is wrong?" he asked the Warden. She nodded.

"Morrigan… Oh Maker, your hands!"

Loghain looked at the witch's arms. They were in blood. The Warden took her by the shoulders and met her face to face. Suddenly the elf's eyes widened.

"Flemeth?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

All that he wants now is just to shut his eyes and imagine that all this is only a nightmare. And then to wake up, to see smiling Duncan and bright Cailan with his childish heartiness and ecstatic gesturing, to hear that they have won the battle of Ostagar. That she lit the beacon and Loghain didn't escape from the battlefield and came to the rescue not as a hero he had been for so long time but also as a friend of Maric. And he shuts his eyes and sees Goldanna charging down to meet him, her eyes glowing with tears – tears of joy. And five ruddy healthy children, lively as grigs, are skipping after her… Aeris is standing at the precipice and staring into the distance thoughtfully; her eyes focused on the Tower of Magi emergent ahead, and beams of the hidden sun tinges her fair skin with a delectable shade of pink… She smiles at him and his new foolish jokes, and Duncan besides her says that she shouldn't listen to all this nonsense, otherwise the Grey Wardens will be at the risk of losing credit with her. And Cailan laughs as do all their crazy company, even on Sten's stony face softens with something reminding of a smile. And he exclaims, glancing at angry Morrigan: "What a sour face she has! Don't tell me the lamb was so bad," causing a new gale of laughter…

But he opens his eyes and discovers only walls of a sleazy village tavern.

Alistair Theirin, not a prince and not a Grey Warden anymore, glances with vacuous eyes at the brisk visitors of the inn. There is anxiety on their faces, and the fear of a new bale reflects in their gestures. It is clear what have frightened them. The war with a savage enemy nobody can fully understand – the Blight.

"What did the Landsmeet decide?" asked some voices affectedly.

"It is said the Grey Wardens killed Queen Anora and Teyrn Loghain! Who will defend us?" echoed the other ones.

"Nonsense! The teyrn is alive! He and the last of Grey Wardens will lead the army against the Blight!"

"One can expect anything of these Wardens…"

Alistair shuddered. To hear all of this was insupportable and he turned to the window. The sunrise will glimpse soon.

Before leaving Denerim, he dropped on his sister to say his last good-bye to her and the children. Not that Goldanna was happy to see her brother but, oddly enough, she accepted more or less calmly. Certainly, she was too tired and didn't want to haggle. Or may be she was just glad to receive some money from him.

Alistair shook his head. He had no desire to think about it now. Actually, he didn't want to think about anything.

Heavy drops banged on the window. It started to rain. Alistair lazily watched how clear water was slowly gliding on the smooth glass surface… There was about an hour before the dawn came… There was, however, no place for the sun in his pathetic life.

How had it happened?

He asked this question to himself hundreds of times since he had left Eamon's estate. And the answer every time escaped him as a predawn dream. Why had he hit her? Alistair would never strike a woman, even if it concerned Morrigan.

Alistair recalled the case when they had fallen into a trap in the Fade. At that time he wasn't able to tell the truth between the lies and became the demon's prisoner. And only Aeris saved him from his own illusions. For only Maker knew Alistair didn't want to wake up at all… Because in this strange, full of painful sweetness captivity he had a family.

Andraste's flaming sword, she is right. He's really a bad templar: not because he didn't recognize the hazard but because he didn't want to do it.

Alistair flashed a look at the window. Today Ferelden wouldn't see the goldish beams of a new sunrise: the sky was clouded over, and there was no break. A dead sky. A grey sky… Grey.

She's mistaken, Alistair thought. She can feel the taint in her blood but she doesn't know what it means to be a Grey Warden, although it is not only her fault – she has never seen the advantages of being a part of the order. Aeris looks at the world through the fog and smoke of magic and false estimations, and the world is unfamiliar to her. But what about Riordan? Is he mistaken either? Or the Grey Wardens are different from what he imagined?

Nonsense. Duncan was a Grey Warden and a true hero. He lived to the same laws as Alistair: "In war – victory. In peace – vigilance. In death – sacrifice." The Grey Wardens have no other laws.

A deep sigh broke out from his chest. He will leave this land soon. There is no sense to remain in a place where honour and duty are just empty words, and forsworn vows are dashed with blood of the innocent. Where Loghain Mac Tir goes scot-free, assured in his impunity. But Alistair needs to rest.

The former templar made the move and went to the bar. An old lady who was wiping a glass looked at him.

"Do you need something, son?"

Alistair eyed her with interest. No doubts, she was very pretty once and had played havoc with many young fellows. Her beauty hadn't abandoned her, transformed from riot of bright colours into noble fading attractiveness.

"Like autumn," Alistair thought, and his lips curved unwittingly in a smile when the mistress of the tavern shook her head watching him.

"A bed," the former templar replied. "Even if it means to sleep with bugs."

She smiled.

"Sorry, we haven't seen bugs here for a long time. And such a handsome boy can't spend nights with these foul insect."

The woman turned to a small cabinet behind her and took a key.

"Here," she said. "Room 16."

Alistair nodded. His gaze was taken by a pendant around innkeeper's neck – a big shell. Its smooth surface was shining even in the dusk. What surprised Alistair most is its colour: the shell was silvery-white, but the left side had some wondrous reddish shade.

"Nice pendant," he noticed.

The old lady brightened up.

"A gift from my husband," she explained. "He's a sailor. Found it on the beach near the Amaranthine ocean."

"The colour is… unusual."

"You mean this?" she touched the shell left side. "It's not its natural colour. Withered blood."

"Wow," Alistair gave the fancy shell a long look.

Blood and nacre. He'd never seen anything like that.

The lady chuckled and Alistair shuddered.

"Young man," she said smiling, "I've been watching for a long time. You've been sitting here for several hours and haven't spoken to anyone. You know, eating one's heart out is very painful. You need rest, listen to an old woman."

"You are n…"

"Yes, yes. Not old, and in the prime of life. Everybody always says the same. Go and sleep, or my husband will sling you out."

Alistair laughed and stood up. He felt a lot better as if this woman had a gift to heal invisible wounds.

"Thanks," and he went up in order to finally slip his memory in the embrace of the Fade.

--

They thought it up when she was six and he was seven.

Even now, despite that she has already grown up, that their friendship, full of long talks lasting for hours, stealthy understandable glances and old yellowed scrolls, is dead but still isn't buried, Aeris cannot but smile, recalling the strange spellful time of their childhood.

Jowan called it the game of mice and cats – the game of mages and templars.

In those rare moments when the endless ocean of books that must have been not only read but also learnt by heart didn't overtake them, Aeris and Jowan played in templars.

Aeris still remembered the tremulous feeling these steel-clad men with emotionless, dead eyes caused in her once. She felt reverent fear of them, carefully watching their silent figures. Jowan laughed at her and told that the templars should have been scared of mages: they had no power to overmaster sunbeams and inweave from them a flaring with gold web; they couldn't understand how it's possible to mix ice and fire, light and darkness into the one shimmering whirlpool.

Aeris only returned his smile and sketched a shrug. Jowan always took it as consent and went on pattering that they could change the world.

Oh, how she regretted it now! Maybe, if she had paid more attention…

But there are mages and templars, and it's impossible to see who is a hunter and who is a prey.

This couldn't be even called a game – just one of them watched the other during his sleep. And Jowan had never been able to keep silent more than ten minutes, and had never been able to suppress a laugh.

And then mages and templars disappeared, and only children with their jokes and games remained.

Now Aeris, looking at dormant Morrigan, didn't laugh. She saw how anxiously Flemeth's daughter was sleeping, rolling over and muttering something. Morrigan's face looked pale and sick, during her sleep she seemed to be weak and defenseless – Morrigan the Warden knew would never let anybody see her in such a state.

The witch had rejected her offer to get Wynne up to heal her arms, and Aeris had had to use a great amount of bandage and all her short knowledge of the healing magic to somehow smooth the situation.

"One more night like this and I'll go mad," she thought.

Aeris had a wild longing to sleep and was thinking of lying down when someone knocked at the door. Aeris went out.

Loghain was waiting for her in the passage.

"How is she?" he whispered.

"Fell asleep."

"I was in her room," Loghain looked around, his expression uptight. "There is nothing, only a broken mirror."

"So, you think, she wounded herself? It's out of character for Morrigan."

"The guardians didn't see anybody," said Loghain briefly.

Aeris looked him up and down. He had already checked everything. This man always dots his i's and crosses his t's.

"Those are fragments left from the mirror," declared Loghain, showing her a gold frame with cracked glass. Aeris had given this mirror Morrigan beforetime. "I thought you would like to have a glance."

Aeris reached forward, disposed her had over the mirror a few inches of it. The Grey Warden closed her eyes, merging into the world of her own sensations. A wild, furious and cruel power, like a brutally storm was winnowing from the mirror, Aeris felt that the broken glass was pulsing. The mage started to gasp for air. She needed to see right through the deeps…

"Ah!"

"Warden!"

Aeris opened her eyes. Loghain took her by the shoulders. The remains of the mirror were thrown down.

"What's going on?" asked Loghain. His cold bright eyes demanded an answer. It seemed he had been trying to awake her not only once.

"I… don't know… The mirror… something is wrong. I think it was used by a mage. I can still feel the magic in these fragments… And the power of this magic scares me."

He just nodded and released her.

"So, the witch was attacked through the mirror? Or she saw something in it?"

"Very much so."

"You said a name, when you saw the witch."

"Flemeth, Witch of the Wild. She is Morrigan's mother. She saved me and Alistair in Ostagar."

"Witch of the Wild," repeated Loghain with thoughtfulness. "And why did she attack her own daughter?"

Aeris suddenly realized she was examined. But there was no use hiding something: their company had been already thinking of confronting Flemeth, and Loghain, whether or no, would find out the truth. Besides, he is a Grey Warden now, and if she cannot trust him, whom she can trust at all?

Oh Maker, she wants to sleep so much!

"We suspect that Flemeth is going to… take Morrigan's vital force and possess her body. And now, if you don't mind, of course, I suggest getting some shut-eye. We both are tired."

"It seems I was right about the Grey Wardens' tradition," Loghain said and folded his arms. "But you have a point. There is much to do tomorrow. Although you never answered why you had left."

Aeris sighed. This man wasn't going to surrender. He looked very exhausted but his blessed stubbornness, by all appearance, overruled everything.

"Tomorrow, Loghain. Tomorrow."

Funnily, but he just gave a nod and turned away in order to leave. He had already disappeared round the corner when suddenly Aeris piled after him.

"Loghain!"

The former teyrn stopped.

"What's the matter, Warden?"

Breathless Aeris stayed forward to him, the gaze of her yellow eyes held his tired, sick face. At that instant she was facing not the Hero of River Dane she had read many books about and not a former regent who was trying to destroy her order and her friends, but an unhappy man that had seen the light and realized that he, trying to save what he loved, had fordone his country and his soul. There was no more a mask of gravity and dark sarcasm on his face, and Aeris thought he wanted to rest, nothing more.

"I should have said it before… When you fall asleep you will…"

"… see the Archdemon. The Orlesian told me," Loghain noticed coldly.

The words abashed her.

'Er… very well. Just wanted to warn. I could ask Wynne to give you somnific to…"

"There is no need, Warden."

He walked away leaving her to stand alone in the dark corridor.

"Maker, help us," Aeris sighed and went to her bedchambers, knowing that she would not sleep. She would meet Eamon in a few hours, and they would decide what to do, and now she would have to guard Morrigan's sleep and recall the old game in templars.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"I don't understand what you want from me."

Aeris's eyes pierced into Arl Eamon, who immediately withdrew his, and the elf folded her arms. Aeris smiled, darkly and sadly. Everything had been already decided here. And they wanted her to be their shield and sword, all in one.

"To stop the Blight. Nothing more," Anora's ringing voice was heard. She was sitting in the comfortable armchair near the fireplace; her glance was absolutely calm, her body chilled. Not a shred of the yesterday's anxiety. Anora looked first-class as always: retrieved and fresh, like a flower on petals of which dewdrops are shining with all colours of rainbow in the tender sunny morning.

Aeris felt a bit of jealousy, glancing at the former queen of Ferelden. The mage herself didn't look grand after her night adventures.

Anora's blue eyes were full of soft, confident light, making everyone who looked at her believe that there was a fair lady beside him, who needed his protection. Aeris's were red from lack of sleep, dark shadows beneath, and the mage seemed to be overwhelmed and sick, much older than she really was. The queen's golden hair was carefully done into fine hairstyle. The long brown hair of Aeris was untidy, making her look a bit wild and feral. Anora's complexion had a nice, healthy and fresh colour, and Aeris's skin resembled white frost.

"We have no choice," sighed Eamon. "You should understand it. Alistair's leaving can provoke a new civil war if we hold our hands."

"And all this "We must do something!" thing implies deceiving the whole country?" Aeris, despite of her resentment, had barely suppressed a yawn.

"Do you see an alternative here, Warden?" asked Anora.

Aeris mused. No matter what, they were right. There really wasn't any choice. She threw a look at Eamon. It was clear that he wasn't impressed by the idea either, nevertheless, he supported Anora.

"And what will you tell the Bannorn?"

"We will declare that Alistair and Anora are going to marry, but under Alistair's inexperience as a politician and his liability to the Grey Wardens Anora will became a regent of Ferelden," informed Arl of Redcliff.

"If all goes according to plan, Alistair's absence will remain unnoticed. The Bannorn will be too busy with war-preparation to find out the truth," Anora added. She rose from the armchair and stood in front of Aeris. "There were a lot of misunderstandings between us, but I want us to be at one. We share a general goal and general love – love for Ferelden."

Aeris caught sight of Eamon nodding approvingly. Anora really had power of conviction. But even Aeris couldn't deny that she was right, and if someone was able to pull the country out of crisis, it would be only Anora Mac Tir, skilled, reliable governor, who is able to look at things in cold blood and take them as they are, obey them but never submit. Besides, she is as honest as can be someone who is responsible for thousands of lives.

Aeris was comforted by the thought that Anora wasn't bereft of humanity. She is not Bhelen who is ready to kill anyone, whether it be his brother, friend or just an unlucky passer-by, all in order to do the trick. Anora, in spite of everything, loves her father and would never be able to kill him, confront – yes, but not to murder. Bhelen with his strong passions and desires needs power for power. Perhaps, he could become the greatest reformer in dwarven history, but lives of hundreds of his opponents would become the price of it; the prince wouldn't be scared of a rebellion or a conspiracy, he would crush his enemies by all available means. Anora is too wary for that, she would try to avoid bloodshed, not to carry out a massacre.

"It's a close shave," Aeris sighed. The ghost of a smile played on Anora's lips.

"Thank you," the queen whispered. Aeris turned away and crossed over to the window to have a glance at the empty streets of Denerim: the storm that had broken before the dawn had come forced citizens to stay at their homes. At the thought of Alistair being caught in the rain Aeris felt a stab of sadness shot through her chest.

"Your Majesty, Your Lordship" sounded a familiar voice.

Aeris turned her head. Riordan smiled at her warmly.

"Sister," he nodded.

"Brother," she slightly shook her head and smiled back. Riordan's presence pacified.

"I've got information about the darkspawn army," he claimed.

Everybody felt the anxiety, but none said a word.

"The Archdemon is gathering his army," Riordan went on. "We managed to destroy a great amount of them during the battle of Ostagar. If that hadn't happened, the Archdemon's horde would have attacked Denerim a long time ago. But not only Aeris has found the allies. Our foe has gathered forces far outnumbering their army in Ostagar.

Anora doubled her fist. Aeris saw how the queen strained, hearing every Riordan's word. The mage wondered if she had remembered her poor husband at the moment.

"How… soon can they reach Denerim?" asked Anora coldly as if cutting off the moment of weakness.

"Within weeks. A month, maybe," Riordan gave Aeris a look. "Sister, if you have to deal with something, make sure to clear it off now."

His glance was strange as if he left something in the air.

"I will do just as you advise," promised the Warden.

"Our allies are gathering in Redcliff," Arl Eamon noticed. "I suggest going there and then with all our forces returning to Denerim."

"I agree," nodded Anora. "Let's hope we will be on time before the darkspawn reach the city."

"I would advise Your Majesty and Your Lordship to march as soon as you can," Riordan turned to Anora, bowing his head deferentially. "The sight of the Queen of Ferelden that unifies such different allies will confirm the fighting spirit among your soldiers."

"You are right. We couldn't allow misunderstandings and doubts be in our midst."

"I'll be happy to welcome Your Majesty at my place," Eamon's voice sounded genuine. "Redcliff is entirely at your service."

"Thank you. Riordan, what would you prefer: to stay with Aeris or join us?"

"I believe, I am much more useful in Redcliff at the moment, Your Majesty. Of course, if my sister doesn't mind."

"By no means," echoed Aeris who had been still during the whole conversation. "We will join you as soon as possible."

"So be it," Eamon declared. "I'll make arrangements everything to be prepare for our leaving. Maker, help us."

"And now we all need rest," Riordan gave Aeris an understanding look. "I dare propose you to spend the day in peace and quietness. Trust me, soon we will face a thing that will claim all our strength. God and have some sleep."

It wasn't an offer, but a mild order, however, nobody dared disobey this Grey Warden, even the secretly crowned queen of Ferelden.

– –

"Warden!"

Aeris stopped, choking down a loud sigh. Mentally she had been already lying in bed reveling in quietness, peace and a warm blanket.

"I haven't expressed my gratitude yet," Anora said quietly. "You saved my father."

Aeris stared at this woman wonderingly. Anora looked a bit confused and even astir, her lips trembling.

"My Queen, you don't need to…" Aeris began but Anora raised her hand breaking the mage's tirade.

"I'm speaking not as a queen now. I'm speaking as a daughter."

Aeris blinked. She didn't expected to hear such a thing from the woman who yesterday had accused her of all Loghain's adversities.

"Without you Alistair or the banns would execute him," went on Anora. Her voice faltered on the word "execute." "I have no right to beg you after all that you have done for us, nevertheless… Look after him. Please. He… he is all I have left. I can't miss him too"

Some part of Aeris, not the best part, to the dark whisper of which she preferred not to hearken, was chuckling now at the double game of people, but the elf severely forced her dark side to silence. She met Anora's eye. And the spiteful cynical voice disappeared as if in the first grey of dawn.

"I promise."

– –

Alistair had already forgotten how pleasant it was to slug in a clean and completely dry bed, getting all the thoughts out of his head. Marvelously, he didn't even hear the Archdemon's calling during the sleep. He would love to have a lie-in for a while, but, having self-knowledge and finding out an unexpected warm-beds without-any-beetles-and-other-small-mercies sickness (as he suspected, the bugs often had appeared to be Morrigan's little shows of affection), understood that "for a while" might transformed into all day long.

With a deep sigh Alistair got up, robed and walked to the window. It was raining like sin. It seemed that he would have to postpone his journey for the present: the roads had been washed away, ten to one.

Fifteen minutes later he was sitting at his table socking his breakfast – hotpot, bacon and eggs and some sandwiches (the half of which was with ham, and the other with strawberry jam). Alistair was thrilled that the food here was so tasty: after yesterday emotions and troubles his appetite had only increased.

He threw a sidelong glance at the bar. Today in the kind lady's place was a man, aged about sixteen, who was sarcastically looking at the visitors. Perhaps, it was her husband: because of people's spate they rotated one another at their post.

Alistair was trying not to think about what had happened and, thanks to good breakfast, almost managed it. But, chewing his last sandwich, he found out without triumph that the memories were coming back. Nuts. Perhaps, a couple of sandwiches would change the situation.

– –

"Morrigan?"

Aeris shut the door. The room was empty. The witch was nowhere about. Probably, she left for her own apartments.

The Warden had an idea to go and look for Morrigan, but she changed her mind. If Morrigan had left, it meant that had her own reasons for doing so. All the same, she would never tell anything until she wanted it. Aeris smiled painfully. Not for one's health it is said that a human can be saved only if he wants that.

But can Morrigan be called a human in every sense of the word? She, like Aeris herself, opened the world for the first time and didn't know its laws. Morrigan is much more like a beautiful free bird that cannot be caught, a wild animal, which licks her wounds being alone.

Aeris shed her clothes, throwing them on the floor: the elf was too tired to worry about such things. She had one foot in the bed but remembered something she hadn't done. The Warden stepped up to the door and locked it. Today she didn't want to see or hear anybody. She had no desire to listen to Leliana's discontent notices about her appearance and she absolutely didn't want to run up against Loghain: there was no hope he would let her go without answering at his question. Aeris jumped into bed under the warm blanket covering herself with it up and down and snuggled. The dream didn't make her wait and that became true relief for Aeris who usually made a poor fist of sleeping.

– –

_Everything was the same as always: the same inconstancy of large roads and narrow paths, dark eddy of disrupt clouds and howling of some creatures afar. She didn't know who they were: spirits or demons. In the Fade you couldn't be sure of anything. At any time you are waiting for the sand under your feet to moulder, and you will fall into_ _bottomless abyss…_

_She carefully passes her hand over the rock. The rough cold stone seems to be so real… But the truth and the lie are always the one here._

_Everything was the same as ever. At heart, the Fade never changes. But…_

_An air stream makes her breathless for a moment. Under the wind pressure rocks are breaking and the ways are disappearing. _

_Aeris raises her head and scans so close and at the same time so faraway cutouts of the Black City. The wind is flying round the strange place but doesn't dare go inside… and maybe it isn't able to find the way. __But what this storm is doing here? Something is wrong... Something has changed. _

_Suddenly her heart stops. In the Fade sky, round the Black City, a dragon is flying. S__phacelated, decayed scale… Bones that stick from the dead flash… The Archdemon. _

_It looks as if he is trying to scrape through an invisible barrier. He needs to passé the gate, to open all the doors. But he can't._

_A voice in her head… Aeris stopped her ears with her hands. It hurts so badly, to tears and hoarseness. And it is so tempting at the same time._

"_Come to me. Help me. Avenge on Him for what He has done."_

_And she walks. Doesn't want, but walks. Her feet refuse to stop. It is her blood… The taint. The dragon freezes for a second in his flight, watching every step of her…_

– –

She awoke, realized that the blanket was missing. Aeris groaned displeasedly. Why all these blankets are always fleeing somewhere?

"I didn't know that even a slight touch of mine gives you such a pleasure, my beautiful Warden."

"Zevran?" asked Aeris confusedly. She blinked and the assassin's tanned face with a cattish smile on it. "I thought I had locked the door."

He just chuckled. Aeris felt her cheeks start blushing: not only because of her making a real howler, but also because she realized only now that Zevran was forwardly running his hand over her leg.

"Didn't Riordan tell everybody what I had said?" she asked, affecting that she didn't feel any embarrassment.

"Oh yes, he did. He overjoyed us with the news that we're having a day-off. Nice fellow. But his words are reckless. Oghren was over the moon. Probably, he's destroying the cellar," Zevran was still smiling fatly. "Arl will send you a bill. You know, this dwarf will do us down."

Aeris hardly heard what he was saying. Zevran ensconced himself by her. He never removed his hand.

"Zev," Aeris muttered, "didn't Riordan say anything else?"

"Of course he did. Tonight there is a great arrangement here. Arl Eamon has invited the ladies from the "Pe…"

"Zev."

Aeris turned away from him and closed her eyes.

"Well, I came it strong. We're marching tomorrow, the queen is leaving for Redcliff. You asked about this?"

"Not exactly," answered Aeris drowsily. "Did he say something about me?"

"That you have gone to bed," Zevran moved closer to her, Aeris felt his breath ruffle her hair. She shuddered.

"And you…"

"… took this as call to action."

"Zev, I went to bed to sleep."

'That's what I'm saying."

He kissed her on the neck. The skin burned. Aeris turned to him and met his eye.

"Zev, I meant another thing."

He examined her tired face, all his playfulness disappeared.

"So, "to sleep" means pillows, teddy bears and walking in the Fade?"

She just nodded and shut her eyes. Strange feeling. She was racking with desire to burst into tears and tell him everything that troubled her: the Archdemon's calling, the fear that all of them would die, the despair because of Alistair's leaving, the guilt, because she hadn't been able to protect Morrigan… But she was tired even for tears.

The bed creaked. Zevran stood up. He took the blanket from the floor and put it quiet across the Warden. After a while he closed the door behind him.

Aeris burrowed down beneath the blanket. One single tear cascaded down her pale cheek.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_**A/N**__: First, I want to thank everyone who reviewed this story and put it on his/her alert and favourite list. You are wonderful people who make my day!_

_Have I ever mentioned I do not own any of the original characters? No? I'm a bad person._

_Please, review. I need to know do you want me to continue or I may have a break _

_And yes, I used one dialogue from the game, just because I thought it was suitable.

* * *

_

Sandwiches aren't almighty. That's a pity.

Damn it all. If it hadn't been raining, he would have already been on the way.

Alistair malignly kicked the nearest chair. Poor, already beaten by the time stick of furniture creaked pleadingly.

"Hey, champ, what's wrong?"

Alistair raised his head. A man was looking at him, surprised.

"Nothing," Alistair muttered.

The man just grinned.

"Oh, really? It's not in the nature of things that verjuice people, who've got sour at the whole world, knock chairs only for kicks."

"I've got sour not at the world, only at strangers who have an oar in every man's boat," Alistair didn't intend to say that but the words had themselves escaped from his lips. His regret must have registered on his face because the stranger smiled and sat down.

"I'm sorry," said Alistair in an apologetic tone.

"Never mind," the man replied. "Didn't see you here before. You don't belong here, do you?"

"No, I don't," Alistair said with thoughtfulness. Who knows, perhaps a conversation can amuse him from dark thoughts?

"I suspected as much. A person with such equipment isn't seen here too often."

Alistair toughened in a twinkle. Daveth's stories about fraudsters and their skills in wriggling into favour had printed in his mind. And although, as it turned out, Daveth himself wasn't brilliant at thievish art, he was a bit of a teller.

The stronger noticed his reaction and gave a laugh.

"You believe I want to rob you?"

"And you believe I want to be robbed?"

"I believe you want to forget something," replied the man calmly. In response to Alistair's curious look he added: "It's always obvious. You're not the first and won't be the last. They aren't worth it."

"Who – they?' Alistair shook his head.

"Women, of course," giggled his companion.

Alistair felt his cheeks becoming red with blush.

"Err… I… she's not…," the former templar stuttered confusedly, but his new familiar only smiled and held up his hands.

"There you are. I know what it is. One hellcat maddened me once… But, you know, you won't relax by sandwiches," he nodded his head in direction of the empty dishes that were quite close to become Alistair's wall; some breadcrumbs remained on them. "Here," the man added, fishing out a bottle of ale, "The best remedy."

"Er, thank you very much, but…" Alistair peered at the bottle. Oghren had confessed once that he drank in order to forget everything. And he, to say the truth, was always successful. "But I don't know who the man I'm joining for a drink is."

"My name is Lodan," he introduced.

Alistair shuddered.

"What?" he whispered, staring at his companion.

"Something is wrong?'

"No," Alistair shook his head, "I'm all right. Just called to mind someone. But it's not important anymore."

And he put out his hand for the bottle.

– –

She loves wind.

Aeris couldn't say when she had realized that first: the night when Duncan had taken her away from the Tower; or the evening when she and Jowan had been admiring the sunset at the top of it; or the wide winter morning, when the dark water of Lake Calenhad covered the body of her mentor.

She loves wind because it tears all masks. Because it doesn't ask to smile falsely and speak that everything is fine. And she loves rain because it wipes away tears and begs for nothing in return.

Going ahead across lack of roads, Aeris with pleasure leaves her face open for the sharp currents of cold prewintry air – or for painful kisses, or for soft blows. She can hear Oghren trying to draw Sten out, and Wynne talking to Shale about something. Just the usual run of things. The normal one. But without Alistair.

They left Denerim several hours ago and now the whole team was making their way towards the camp in order to take all their things and never return there anymore. Even at the moment Aeris still couldn't believe that everything would be over soon and there would be no more nights, gathering about the fire, no more of their either loud, either silent klatches. Over a year ago she just the same couldn't believe that her life in the Tower had reached its end, fatal and deciding.

The afternoon was, to the common joy, without rains and others weather surprises, and the party was moving as quickly as it was possible upon the softened from moisture earth.

"Dirt and slather," grunted Oghren out, displeasedly looking at his boots. "What a beauty."

"What's the matter, my spoony friend?" Zevran smirked with feint sympathy and, coming up with the dwarf, pressed his head against his mouth, as if he was disturbed to the very bottle of his soul. "What a misfortune," he pointed to the detestable slop that was covering Oghren's boots. "Did you fetch up? I'd warned you that the emptying of Arl's cellars would take its toll."

"You again. All-fired Mr. Pixy-Ears. If you utter one word, I'll force you to clean them with your tongue until they shine. Yap."

Zevran gave a loud laugh.

"Is that all you want me to do with my to…"

"Oh Maker, when will they quiet?" Aeris begged. Her mabari, Apollo, who was moving to his mistress's pace, wuffed softly and stared askance at Oghren

"Don't eyeball me as if I'm in hock to you," the dwarf turned to him. "Fetid… dog. You're not so clever, as they believe. If you were, I'd not have to pad the hoof in this mire, and you'd get respect and honour."

"What's the bunk you're talking now, dear Oghren?" inquired Zevran. "What are these respect and honour?" he struck off invisible letters in the air.

"It seems, the respect and honour of bearing Oghren," chuckled Leliana. "He wanted hitched a chariot to Apollo."

"A chariot? Why not a cradle?" Zevran clapped Oghren on the shoulder.

"A grave. For you."

"Calm down," sounded Wynne's tired voice. "What a childishness."

The enchanter's notice caused new whoops, and now contesting were five – Shale joined the stirring company and troubled Zevran again with her old question about the Crows, – but Aeris didn't listen to them any more, although the subject seemed to be explosive. She was looking for her companions which were silent.

Sten, as always, was walking with a steady prance gait, not even giving a glance to right and left and not listening to the others' chats. He was frowning, his eyes dark, the teeth locked together, and for a second Aeris mused if Sten was going to call her down again. But the qunari didn't even gave her a look, still making his way without saying a word to the cries of the fussy company, who had _already_ been busy with a question who had sewed up Shmooplez with the whisky ageing twenty years (Leliana had found a bottle and produced it in evidence; Zevran and Oghren on a whim of consensus positively claimed that they would never give a nug such a treasure).

Aeris's sharp, hawkish gaze settled on Morrigan. The witch was wandering far from the others, her eyes fastened on the darkling sky. Wynne had healed her wounds, and there were no trails of blood, which had been cut on the thin skin by the fragments of glass, on her hands. Morrigan's movements were slight and confident in the falling twilight; she seemed to be surprisingly calm, as if she was absolutely certain that she was out of danger. Perhaps, it had been caused by Aeris's announcement, who had proclaimed that she would protect Morrigan from Flemeth.

Everybody had taken the idea in different ways, but there had been a consensus that it was necessary to kill Flemeth. Attempt on Morrigan, who had refused to explain what exactly had happened, only proved that. And although Aeris herself wasn't happy about the idea of killing someone who had saved her life, she agreed that it was the only way to rescue Morrigan.

The only one who had remained silent then at the meeting before their departure was Loghain, who was walking alone in the back of the group at the moment. Aeris had seen him narrowing his eyes skeptically during Wynne's speech, who had been stating that Flemeth in any event must pay for her crimes. Probably, his gloomy spirit had been caused by the fact that Wynne with her "pay for crimes" thing had meant him as well. But it had seemed to Aeris that he' wanted to tell her something, but changed his mind, as if he had thought nobody would listen to him.

She never told anyone about her and Loghain's promenade. There was no need for her friends to know that, though Morrigan, for a certainty, was wary of their shared tea. At that moment she must have supposed that the Grey Wardens both had fallen mad. Aeris couldn't help but smile when she imagined what would have happened then if instead of Morrigan the whole kit and boiling had come to the kitchen.

But her smile faded quickly. Surana was walking alone, only Apollo beside her, and his loyalty was unshakable and clear. The devoted mabari would never leave her whatever happened. But the others…

It mightn't safely be said when Aeris had started to estrange herself from them. The more successful she was in her mission, the oftener she asked herself: what next? What keeps these people alongside of the elvish mage who has neither home, nor family and nor even past?

Alistair had been with her, because they had been bound with general oaths. But even that hadn't stopped him. Even if a Grey Warden may get away from it all, imagine what may the others.

Take one sidestep, and everybody will be against you.

Aeris shuddered, felt somebody's stony gaze at herself. Loghain primmed and cast his eyes down immediately. He was dark as always. Aeris sighed.

– –

_An eleven-year-old girl was quivering from cold, muffled by a templar in a fur cloak. She was looking around with fear on her face. Never being out of the Tower, Aeris didn't know where to go or hide: the grey sky over her head and howling wintry wind made her feel uncomfortable here, in this great, strange world._

_The procession of mages and templars__ stood on the shore of Lake Calenhad. In this winter, sunless morning its water seemed to be paly black. _

"_Don't be afraid."_

_Aeris raised her head. The first enchanter Irving smiled warmly at her. She nodded uncertainly, unable to say a word._

"_I don't think it was a good idea, Irving," noticed Greagoir, fixing his gimlet eyes on the girl. "Children are forbidden to leave the Tower. Especially by such reasons."_

"_You've read the will," the mage replied calmly. "Kenmair wanted her to attend."_

_The knight-commander just sighed loudly and turned to his subordinates' side; they were carrying the coffin. _

_Aeris's eyes hazed with tears, when the templars carefully set it by the very water. _

_On __Greagoir's signal the coffin cover was taken off. The priestess began to declaim a long, monotonous speech, but Aeris didn't listen to her. She had her eyes glued on her deceased mentor's face. He seemed to be so peaceful at that moment: the wrinkles on his forehead had disappeared, a serene, soft smile played on his lips. It was only his skin, too white, too thin… There was an impression that if somebody had touched his face, it would turn to thousands of snowflakes. Aeris sobbed softly._

_When the burial service was over, the templars made few backward steps from the shore. Greagoir took Aeris in his arms and stood beside the others. _

_The mages, headed by __Irving, encircled the coffin. Four of them accurately pulled the body out. Irving muttered something and the smoke light glowed. All the mages moved slowly in the direction of the lake, cautiously bearing the body of their dead brother. They grazed against the water, as if it was the solid earth under their feet._

_Aeris, who was still holding by Greagoir, saw how they reached the middle and threw the body into the water; icy steel waves rippled the lake. _

_The ceremony was complete. _

_The girl closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. The templars were standing with their heads bowed in their helmets; the priestess was watching the mages coming up._

_He will never return. But he was smiling. So, all is as it must._

_And Aeris lifted her red from tears eyes towards the cold sky, and the wind was playing with her hair…_

– –

Aeris jumped. And how does he always manage to sneak up?

"And why we are so sad?"

"Just memories," she gave Zevran, who had already twined his arms around her waist, a faint, regretful smile; now they were walking nip and tuck. "So, who gave Shmooplez a drink?"

"Ah, the question of the day. Oghren just doesn't have brains for that," opened up the assassin. "You should have seen **how** the little beast ate some Arl's important papers first and then flung to dance the salsa on his writing desk… I have to confess that I was amazed by Leliana's vocal guns, when she saw that."

"And you didn't feel sorry for the whisky ageing twenty years?"

"Of course I didn't. I had drunken it off. Shmooplez went on with new beer."

The mage chuckled, her eyes, however, were still sad. Zevran, as if he had felt her mood, slowly released her.

"Well, I've gone to pick up."

"Whom?"

"Everyone," to Aeris's horror, he made a beeline for Loghain.

She waved her arm at him, but Zevran just gave her a conspiratorial wink and came up with Loghain.

"So, err… is it Lord Loghain?"

The former teyrn looked Zevran up and down and suspiciously strained his eyes

"I am no longer a teyrn, nor even a knight. Address me without a title, as you would any other Grey Warden."

"So just Loghain, then."

"Correct," he nodded. "What's on your mind?"

"You know who I am, yes? I was one of the Crows you hired to kill the Grey Wardens."

Loghain scrutinized him.

"I thought you looked familiar," he said slowly, slightly shaking his head.

Aeris held her breath. She was surprised to notice that absolutely all of her companions were listening to the conversation, being all ears.

"Well, I just wanted to report that I failed my mission, Loghain," Zevran informed him dolefully.

"You don't say," echoed Loghain in the same tone

"I am terribly broken up over it."

"Hmm. Well thank you kindly for informing me."

Aeris fell about and burst into laughter. Smiles spread over her companions' dark faces. Oghren, catching sight of it, gave a loud guffaw too.

"Hey, and why are we yocking?" he twitched Aeris by the sleeve, trying to speak as softly as possible.

A new gale of laughter went round.

"Oghren," Zevran hammered out some words with tears.

"What do you want, sharp-ears-instead-of-brains?"

"You're genial," Zevran folded up from, helpless with laughing, and nearly fell.

"What's the matter with him?" the dwarf nictitated.

"Oghren," Leliana dried her eyes.

"What's gone of you, damn you all with all your inwards?!"

"Don't force your genius," advised Aeris.

"Oh," Morrigan grinned, "tis difficult to force something that doesn't even exist."

"And what you all are talking about?"

"And is there any sense to explain?" smiled Wynne.

"Get off with ya," Oghren took amiss and marched off.

"Ho, Oghren, wait!" Zevran made after him. "Are you mad at us? Oh, get out, my stocky little friend!"

"Shove off!"

"Come on, stop taking the pet."

"I'm not an elven maiden to take the pet!"

"I hear you!" yelled Aeris. Well done, Zevran, you managed to amuse everyone. As if nothing had happened.

Suddenly Aeris met Loghain's eye. He was dark as before. Aeris wondered if the man could smile, not fleer.

But his expression changed. As did hers.

"Darkspawn!" exclaimed the Grey Wardens together.

The fun was over. Aeris was watching with a heavy heart how a big group of living dead ones, which was three times outnumbering than her own, was appearing from forest. Three emissaries were heading them.

– –

"_First Enchanter, Knight-Commander," the priestess slightly shook her head._

"_Revered M__other," Greagoir and Irving greeted her deferentially. Aeris, who was still being held by Greagoir, didn't say anything and was goggling at the woman in golden robes. _

"_Let me offer my condolences to you," she addressed to Irving. "The death of Senior Enchanter Kenmair is a great loss for the Circle." _

"_Thank you," said Irving in a dryish tone. Greagoir gave a cough and flashed an annoyed look at the mage. _

"_None the less, I'm a bit worried because of the child's presence," stated the woman, eyeing Aeris. The girl squirmed. "You know the rules…"_

"_Kenmair left a will, where had pointed out that he would like us to allow Aeris to say her last good-bye to him," informed her Irving coldly. "I regarded it as my duty to realize his last wish. Knight-Commander agreed with me."_

"_Is it true?" the priestess turned to Greagoir._

"_Yes," the templar said shortly._

_The revered mother pulled a face. She was away for a moment and then she spoke:_

"_Perhaps, the Chantry will take the child under a special care. Taking account of the stress she had endured…"_

"_I beg your pardon?" Irving asked, shocked. _

"_I've read the report, First Enchanter. The girl found the body. Her cries were heard all over the Tower. You cannot warrant that she will not…"_

"… _become an easy prey for demons?" Irving finished her phrase. Aeris just stared at the priestess._

_The revered mother ignored him. _

"_It's only for the benefit of her."_

"_And what will you do with her? Send her to Aeonar only because she burst into tears due to her mentor's death?" _

"_Don't get me wrong, Irving. We can't risk."_

"_Wait," spoke Greagoir. "Revered Mother, Aeris is just a child. I don't think that…"_

"_Ser Greagoir, you are the head of the templars in Kinloch Hold. You should know the danger. The child…"_

"_Aeris," Irving corrected coldly. "She is here, the Reverend." _

_The woman gave him a deadly look._

"_You can warrant nothing, ma… First Enchanter. The only one person I can trust and whose words are his bonds is Knight-Commander, and I'm sure, he will agree with me. What will you say, Ser __Greagoir?"_

_The templar hesitated as if being between two fires. At last he opened his mouth._

"_With all due deference to you, the Reverend, I have to agree with First Enchanter. The girl doesn't represent any danger, I give you my word."_

_There was an embarrassment silence. Aeris pillowed her head on Greagoir's shoulder._

"_Very well," the priestess enounced slowly, "so be it. And who will take care of the girl?" _

"_I will," claimed Irving. "From here Aeris is my apprentice."_

"_And what will you tell me about the funeral? You know that corpses must be cremated, not thrown into the lake."_

"_This issue was accommodated on the highest level. I'm sorry if you aren't informed, the Reverend. Under Kenmair's merits the Chantry allowed to enact the ceremony as he had wished. Everything is pointed out in his will. If you want, you may have a glance at it."_

"_Wonderful. At this rate, I'd like to get onto another subject. The Chantry expresses its gratitude to the Circle for the Grand Cleric's cure. The senior enchanter Wynne seems even to exceed herself…"_

_Shortly the priestess left them. Greagoir sighed with relief._

"_I've told you skillion of times not to ask for trouble," he started on Irving. "You're risking and putting me on the spot."_

"_Thank you. Without your help there would be nothing."_

_Greagoir's face softened a bit._

"_I was just doing what was right in my opinion. Besides, Mother Eshlynna is well known for her sometimes absurd ideas. Let's go. It's time to return home."_

_And the mage with the templar, carrying the little girl, went to the Tower. Home._

– –

The Spellweaver cut freely into the decaying flesh till the very grip. The hurlock shook and made a rusty sound at conclusion. It was over.

But Aeris had no time to relax: two more were approaching here from the right. She latched onto the sword grip, but it didn't yield: the blade had bogged down into the soft tissue of the dead darkspawn. The Warden gave a tug at the sword hilt again, but unsuccessfully. The hurlocks rushed for her. There was no time or possibility to cast spells.

Aeris managed to dodge the first blow (Zevran had showed her some tricks), she wandered from her enemy and pulled a stylet out of the bootleg.

A dull howl sounded behind her. Aeris immediately wheeled around and stabbed her rival between the eyes. The darkspawn hissed, its arm with a maul fell to its side. Aeris, not letting go the stylet, exhaled the words of the spell, and flame ran down the steel blade. The hurlock screamed. The elf only drove the stylet deeper.

Another enemy, meanwhile, didn't wait. Aeris felt an ache in her shoulder and cried out: an arrow went through the leather armor. The hurlock took new aim for her head.

But the next second the darkspawn fell dead: another archer had been too fast. Leliana was shooting so quickly that even before her arrows could reach their targets, new ones had been already in the flight.

Aeris nodded the bard gratefully and rushed for the body of the defeated foe with her sword in the chest. She drew her weapon and looked around the battlefield.

Zevran and Oghren were beside Wynne, not letting the darkspawn to get round to the healer, surrounded by white mist. On a small hill Morrigan was raining magic blows on her enemies, her face ablaze with anger; Leliana was standing besides her with her bow, killing everyone who dared to come up to them. Shale was fighting alone with six foes, smashing skulls and breaking spines with great pleasure. On the other side Apollo was chasing darkspawn, helping Sten. The ranks of the blessed were thinning. All her friends were doing well, there was nothing to worry about… or was?

Aeris looked round, searching for Loghain, the mage scared. She sighed with relief when saw that he, standing detached, beheaded the last one of his opponents. But the sight of Loghain fighting in a single combat, without any help from her companions, made her feel bad.

Suddenly he heart sank: three emissaries, who had disappeared at the start of the battle, showed from thickened dusk mist, aiming their staffs, which were shining with glaring magic light, at Loghain…

She skived forward, wind howling in her ears, the pain in her shoulder cut her with icy fire, and because of the scamper she thought that if she took another breathe, she would choke…

The mage dashed between Loghain and the emissaries at the very nonce when three fireballs flew aside the Grey Wardens. Aeris screamed something in the language of ancient elves and raised her arms, ignoring pain. The fireballs banged into a flaring shield, the surface of which became crazed.

Even the ancient magic of arcane warriors couldn't hold the attack of the dark sorcery of those who had been forever and ever cursed by the Maker.

Aeris's magic couldn't suppress the emissaries' fiery blow. But it could change that.

Everybody on the glade was frozen with fear and admiration, watching a devastating sight.

The shield soaked up the flame and broke into thousands watery blue fragments of magic, like a mirror. But the power of the emissaries' sorcery remained, and a storm threw Aeris and Loghain away. Both of the Grey Wardens fell to the ground with a terrible crash. Loghain an Aeris didn't show any signs of life.

That sobered the others. Apollo overturned one of the emissaries. Morrigan and Wynne together raised their staffs, aiming at the second. Sten beheaded the third. The battle was over.

– –

Aeris felt frost had covered her. She didn't understand why it was so cold. Screams were outbreaking from somewhere. She didn't want to awake.

Somebody's arms hung on her body and turned her over.

"Warden?"

She opened her eyes. Loghain bent over her. He was quivering, a severe abrasion on his head, in his eyes… anger?

Aeris coughed. Loghain boosted her. The elf reeled, and he caught her carefully, clasping her waist.

"Aeris! How are you?"

All the company gathered around the Wardens. Apollo yelped joyfully and rushed for his mistress.

"Fine," Surana wheezed, all over dirt and blood, and patted cheerful Apollo on the back. She caught Zevran's alarmed glance. She didn't realize that Loghain was still "embracing" her.

"In Andraste's name, girl, you gave us quite a turn," Wynne whispered.

Suddenly everything became clear. Aeris felt how anger and hurt overlaid her.

"Ha, ha, what hilarity twas!" exclaimed Oghren, smiling gladly.

"Can somebody explain to me what happened?" Aeris whispered and drew herself up to her full height. Loghain released her.

Leliana and Wynne exchanged glances.

"Chick, ya took a rap on your head?" Oghren, as ever, was very gallant. "Battle. Fray. Butchery. Massacre. Choose what ya like the most. The result is only one: it's rough luck on someone today. Epic fail."

"I don't mean this, Oghren. I ask, why you left him," she nodded towards Loghain, "alone to the darkspawn."

The former teyrn just frowned and turned his back on them.

"My dear…" Wynne started, but Aeris interrupted her.

"I need an explanation."

"And who is he? A friend? A convive? " Oghren decided to speak plainly. "I owe him not a bloody rap!"

At this particular moment Aeris had finally beheld the truth. That entire laugh, jokes, making a show of being well, – everything was a lie. Actually, they still were at the Landsmeet.

"It seems to me, you owe Alistair nothing as well," noticed the Warden softly.

"Alistair was one of us," Wynne objected.

"You said a right thing, Wynne. He was," Zevran stepped away from the others and stood behind Aeris's back at Loghain's side.

"Fortunately for everyone," Morrigan grinned and joined Zevran.

Loghain was standing with unreadable look on his face, as if it was none of his doing.

"Alistair," Aeris didn't let Leliana finish:

"Left."

"Because of you," Oghren grunted.

Suddenly Aeris realized that they had divided into two groups: herself, Apollo, Zevran, Loghain and Morrigan at one side; Wynne, Sten, Leliana, Oghren and Shale – at another.

"A revolt?" the Warden asked loudly, stepping back.

There was a silence.

A familiar feeling.

"Darkspawn are coming! Near the hill!" exclaimed Loghain.

– –

Leliana flung to the top of the hill. She returned in a minute. The bard looked breathless and feared.

"There're too much of them. We can't win. Need to draw off."

Aeris didn't listen to her. She looked at Morrigan. The witch closed her eyes in silent agreement.

"Aeris, we have to leave," there were overtones of panic in Wynne's voice.

The Warden didn't reply. She spanned Morrigan's wrist, and they both went off, not listening to the screams, and ran to the hill. And there was no fear, no doubt, only a feeling of freedom and strange lightness. Morrigan laughed.

In a few seconds they were at the top. A huge group of darkspawn was seen over here. They were marching under the guidance of an emissary.

Aeris outstretched her arms to the sky and cried out:

"Air!"

Streams of wind worked round and round the mages, obeying Aeris. The elf clapped her hands, and the winds gathered into one whole gale.

Morrigan smiled.

"Fire!" exclaimed the witch of the wild.

She "inflamed" Aeris's storm, and it changed into a flammeous swirl. Both mages made a movement of their hands toward the incoming enemies.

The fire storm broke their rows, getting down everybody, not sparing. The combined power of the feral magic of the Korcari Wilds and the ordered wizardry of the Circle of Magi was impossible to resist.

In three minutes thirty four darkspawn were turned to dust and ash.

Just Aeris loved wind, and Morrigan loved freedom. Often and often these things are identical.

– –

But there was no time to relax, even after the victory. When Aeris and Morrigan came back, being escorted by gapes and quiet murmurs, the Warden faced her companions.

"I don't ask anybody to follow me," Aeris declared confidently, although under the mask of calmness the heart of the arcane warrior was full of fear. "Never asked. You owe me nothing. The Blight is a duty of the Grey Wardens, not yours. For me there is no returning. For you – is and has always been. If you want to leave only because I refuse to be a murderer and do the thing you want me to, leave. If you want to fight with me – fight. But I will not fight with you."

The shoulder was as if burning with poison, but Aeris forgot about the pain. She unsheathed her sword, her eyes for a moment lingered on the shiny blade where blood trails were still seen. The Warden threw the Spellweaver before Sten saying:

"For me a sword is just a weapon, not a goal."

She didn't see that a ghost of a smile played on Loghain's lips.

Sten lifted the Spellweaver off the ground. He kept the beaut weapon for a moment, and then the qunari in complete silence handed it back to the rightful owner:

"It is yours, Kadan."

Aeris looked around her friends. The pain of the physical wound was nothing to compare with the heartache.

"Aeris…" Leliana whispered.

"We are with you till the end," Wynne finished.

Shale nodded. Oghren smiled darkly. Morrigan, looking at them, just sniffed in a deprecating way and exchanged knowing glances with Zevran.

The Grey Warden pushed her hair back.

"Take care of your wounds," she ordered, sheathing her sword, "search the bodies. The halt for an hour. Then we are keeping on. The Archdemon won't be waiting."

And she walk away from them, into darkness.


End file.
